


You Don't Say

by Name1



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Flashbacks, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Name1/pseuds/Name1
Summary: "You're….." he says, and hesitates as he's not sure what word to use next. "You’re pregnant.""You don’t say,” she replies, slightly amused but also unimpressed with his observational skills and fundamental grasp of Basic.He seems to be catching up with the developments since he left but one question still lingers. "How though?” he asks, so sincerely confused that it brings a smile to her face. “How did we--?""I think you know how," she says, and the grin she flashes him is the one he sees in his dreams--so familiar, that he feels confident everything will work out just from that. "I think the question you want to ask is 'what's happened since you left?'"
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 109





	You Don't Say

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the lovely art @Mandalorianess posted on Tumblr and Instagram.  
> It was too good not to be inspired by it :)

Din couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off.

When he returned to Nevarro after many months away he wasn't sure what to expect, but he thought it would be a little more than an aloof and almost cold reply from Greef; a man he had almost come to consider as a friend. He didn't understand the meaning behind the older man's words and kept turning them over in his head.

Was he saying there was something wrong with Cara? What does ‘ _she's a little off lately’_ mean, exactly? He knew she got quiet when PTSD snuck up on her, so maybe that was it. Something must have gotten under her skin and she was working her way out of a haze. It must have seemed ' _off_ ' to Greef, but Din understood perfectly. Nevertheless, he could hardly wait to see her and almost smiled as he imagined the height the kid's ears would achieve when he laid his huge eyes on her as well. Din was almost looking forward to her punching him in the face for being gone so long without even a single word. He had wanted to contact her numerous times over the past few months, but the risk had been too great--any transmission giving away his position or hers put them all in jeopardy.

Now, he looked forward with anticipation to the beautiful righteous anger on her face and watching as it was replaced with happiness and relief at seeing him again. Not many people were glad to see him across the galaxy at large, but she always seemed truly happy to see him and he found comfort in the fact that at least one person besides his son enjoyed his presence. He had dreamt about this moment--imagined a hundred scenarios and the words he might say to make his parting and return all the more palatable. Hell, he'd even apologize if she asked it of him. 

He walked toward the plains that Karga had pointed him toward and felt something shift warmly in his chest when he saw her in the distance. She was standing with her back to him, but she was next to a cluster of sensors along the rockbed, seemingly lost in thought. He thought she'd be more of an enforcer than a field engineer spending afternoons in the sun monitoring and fixing equipment, but she always managed to surprise him so he thought nothing of it. She didn't even seem like she was aware of his approach though, and something crawled uncomfortably under his skin in concern at something so unlike her. ‘ _Why wasn't she wearing all of her normal armor?_ ’ he thought. He felt something approaching worry, as he realized how slow she was moving and how little energy she seemed to have to monitor her surroundings and the man approaching her unarmored back. He could have been anyone with nefarious intentions and she wouldn't have known it until it was too late. He continued his approach and when he got close enough to send off alarm bells in her head she finally cocked her head to the side at the sound of his footfalls. She turned to face him, and time abruptly stopped.

"Hey Mando," she said casually, like he showed up out of the blue every other day and they were just grabbing lunch or something equally trivial. "Long time no see." His eyes take her in and that's where all higher brain function ceased to exist. 

He wants to speak but his tongue is lead. His mouth is so dry he couldn't swallow even if he could divert enough brain function to complete the action. His helmet tips forward slightly as he takes in the most obvious change in her appearance, unable to tear his eyes away. Her face is slightly fuller than he remembers but it's the fullness of her swollen belly that can't be anything other than what he knows it is, that dissolves his ability to speak. He wants to say something and tries to force himself not to stare at the evidence of new life hidden away under the black shirt that's stretched thin to cover it, but he can't help it. _She's....._

"You're….." he says, and hesitates as he's not sure what word to use next. "You’re pregnant."

"You don’t say,” she replies, slightly amused but also unimpressed with his observational skills and fundamental grasp of Basic.

He does the mental calculation quickly in his mind but his brain is so foggy he struggled to remember the exact dates corresponding to the last time he saw her 6 months ago and the 2 months before that on Sorgan. _She looked pretty far along……._

"Oh," he says lamely, and cringes at how outright dumb it sounds coming out of his mouth. He must have something more profound to say than that, he thinks. Maybe she will help him out.

She’s as eloquent and loquacious as he is though, and her next words don’t offer a lot of additional information as she agrees with him. “Yeah…….oh.”

She doesn't look sad, or angry, or even surprised or happy as they align in a standoff to see who can say something meaningful first. She's totally blank, not giving anything away (a defense mechanism, he knows), but he can see something tentative and hopeful in her dark eyes that answers the question he can't bring himself to ask. _It's his._ He can feel it. He’d bet his life on it.

He thinks back to the quiet stillness of the green and lush backwater planet he had met Cara on and the weeks they had spent side-by-side in the village learning about the threat that brought them together and growing closer with every sparring session and morning on the porch. The heat and the sun on Nevarro right now are a direct contrast to the moment his brain takes him back to--that night that changed everything and nothing. He thought it would be nothing more than a nice memory to look back on fondly when the nights were cold and space was dark and lonely, but fate had obviously had other plans………

…………………

They were both drunk off adrenaline--feeling light and invincible after the victory. He'd crawled out of the krill pond first and knelt down to offer her a hand out. They both laughed when the soft wet ground under his feet combined with her strong tug almost pulled him back in with her. All the villagers were celebrating already--cheering and singing and hugging, and Din watched them from a distance--like always, from the periphery--always an outsider even in a village he just helped save. He was happy for them, but it still stung to be so different from these people. 

He turned his head and beside him, Cara was watching them just the same. ‘ _He wasn't that different from her_,’ he thought, and felt once again thankful he'd managed to find someone on his travels he felt such a connection to. In fact, sometimes they seemed so alike, except for the plates of Beskar, it frightened him with the intensity he grew attached to her--her smart mouth, her jokes, her ability to listen without judgement, her body, her voice.....

He tries to be discreet watching her as the flames from a bonfire dance across her face and neck and accentuate the curves hidden by her armor, but he finds himself drawn to her tonight. 

Who was he kidding? _It was every night._

Even the fireflies lighting up here and there in the dark couldn't draw his eyes away from her. She belonged here, he thought. She was nature embodied--quiet and powerful; something that changed you when you were surrounded by it and made everything still and quiet in your mind to allow you to focus on what really mattered.

He heard crickets and frogs in the distance, where they disturbed the quiet stillness and wondered idly how far he'd have to walk into the forest to escape her filling his senses. He felt something in the night when she was near—it was in the air, on his skin, in his lungs, and creeping into his psyche. _Maybe it was the stillness of the night in the forest or maybe it was just her._

She seemed to have had enough watching the joy of strangers from afar as well. "I'm going to head back to the hut,” she said. “I'm tired, but I know I won't be able to sleep." She was too wound up--he knew the feeling. He was on edge too after coming down from the fight. "I'll probably run some laps or take out my frustration on the first tree I come across with bark smooth enough it won't tear up my gloves."

"I'll come with you," he offers, not only wanting to escape the celebratory atmosphere, but also to be close to her. "I can't sleep either." The kid was safe with the village children and having the time of his life so he felt guilt-free when he followed Cara into the trees in the general direction of their lodging.

Stomping through the underbrush was hilarious in how awkward it was in the dark so it made perfect sense when one of them challenged the other, "bet I can beat you back to the hut." They fought dirty, shoving one another aside to get the lead. Their feet got tangled in blackberry bushes and moonblossom vines that crawled along the ground and they each went down to their knees several times before continuing their foot race. ‘ _When was the last time he could remember having fun like this?’_ he thinks--running through the forest in the dark like idiots--the only light being supplied from the quarter moon that peeked out from behind the clouds, fireflies looking for love, and the bioluminescent algae that lit up in defense when they turned over an old decaying log; all of which cast only the smallest hint of diffuse light over the vegetation at their feet.

By the time their feet reached the wooden steps of the lodge, they were huffing and puffing and bent over at the waist from the exertion combined with the force of their laughter.

Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he tries and fails to not be hypnotized by the movement.

"I definitely won't be able to sleep now," she says, as she catches her breath.

"Me neither." He’s standing dangerously close to her along the wall of the porch as they breathe heavily to gulp down oxygen into their burning lungs, but it feels right. He doesn’t step back, even though his mind is screaming at him _'danger, danger_!'

She deliberately backs up so the wall is at her back and tugs on his hips so she's pinned between his hard body and the wooden planks behind her.

“Wanna mess around?” she purrs, right at the edge of his helmet and he can feel her warm breath on his neck through the fabric keeping her lips from brushing his skin. “We’ve both got some energy to burn”. She intended to say, “wanna fuck?” but she couldn’t manage to use that impersonal term with someone she actually cared about. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to want someone like this.

Din feels powerless as he feels his body react to the press of her body and the sound of her words. _She feels so good._ His mind is spinning and struggling to remember why this can't happen.

“I….I can't,” he says, but it doesn’t sound convincing even to his own ears. He wanted _this_ , but this would end badly--he just knew it. He didn’t want to ruin whatever they had by reaching blindly for more. It was too good to risk for a night of pleasure, no matter how he craved it.

Her hands loosen on his hips but doesn't let go and he doesn’t back off. His body is molded to hers from toe to shoulder and he doesn’t retreat like his brain is yelling at him too. _She feels so good_. His blood is humming--no, _pounding_ \-- in his veins and every place her body touches him is on fire. He's never wanted anything like he wants this. 

“Why not?” she asks, not judging, just curious. She thought there was definitely something there, but maybe she had it wrong. “You can’t in general or I’m just not your type?”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at her question. That was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. She had to know what she looked like and the effect she had on him. How could she not know that she was the closest thing to the ideal of strength and beauty he could ever imagine? At the very least, she could feel where he was pressed against her, obviously aroused. “It’s certainly not you,” he assures her.

“You've never thought about it, then?” she asks. “With me, I mean?” she clarifies.

“I have,” he responds honestly. There was no point in lying.

That seemed to be the answer she was hoping for and he saw a flash of her white teeth in the dark when she grinned at him. "Just once, or more than once?” she teased him, as she lowered her face once again to his neck to breathe him in.

"Definitely more than once." He lets out a self-deprecating sound approaching a laugh "It's been a really long time since I wanted anyone. Even longer since I've _been_ with anyone."

She nods and is unusually serious, not poking fun at him any longer. "For me too,” she tells him truthfully, "but that's not why I want you now."

"I know....." he says quietly, not to break the spell holding them together like this.

He _did_ know. This wasn't just her proposing to scratch an itch. Whatever pull she felt toward him, he felt it too. This wasn’t desperation, just desire. It was so simple.

He doesn't speak--what is there to say?-- but he doesn't take his eyes off her, waiting on someone to make a move. Moving closer together or further apart--he doesn't care, but the waiting is the worst kind of torture. 

She's the first one to speak and gives him an out. "Look, if you're not interested, you don't have to convince me. I'm not going to force you or coerce you into something you'll regret. You don't want me-- _fair enough_ \--no hard feelings. I'm not going to run off and cry in the bushes or throw myself back in a krill pond to end it all. I can take a little rejection." She's already loosening her hold on his hips, though neither one is pulling away. The mixed messages are enough to make her second guess the attraction she thought he shared.

A long moment passes in silence before he speaks again. "I do....."

She’s lost where they were in this conversation; so much time passed since she last spoke. "You do what?”

"I _want_ you," he says simply, unable to believe she doesn't already see it. "It's all I've been able to think about for days--weeks, if I'm honest. I've tried not to let it come to the surface, but tonight it's almost impossible to resist."

"Then how about you don't?" she asks. “I want _you_ and it seems you want _me_ ". She rubs her hips deliberately against the growing bulge in his pants and that’s all it takes.

_Fuck it._

This one time he'd let himself have something he wanted for no other reason than he wanted it like he needed air. He'd never had anyone who accepted him so completely and wanted him despite it all; certainly, never someone as gorgeous (even in the dark), as kind, as funny, or as stunning as her. One night of weakness couldn’t be bad--not with her at least. She had him at “ _I want you_ ”, and he'd made up his mind.

“The helmet, it can't come off,” he says, with his mind made up and lays down the only ground rule.

She lets out a low indulgent laugh. “I know that, idiot. Leave it on. Can the rest of the armor come off though?”

He’s almost shaking with anticipation already. “Yeah."

"Good,” she saysand her hands start to wander. “I want to feel you.”

He feels excitement coursing through his veins at the thought of what was about to happen. "Me too."

Their hands are everywhere when they pass through the door as they pull their armor away and tug at each other’s clothing until the fabric joins the protective gear on the ground, strewn messily around the room.

He walks her to the bed in the corner of the room and she walks backwards without taking her hands off his chest and arms where she’s mapping him as much as she can in the dark.

He’s lost in the whole experience, but it’s all muffled through the Beskar around his head--all of it\--the sounds, the feel of her breath that would brush his cheeks, and the dim light peeking through the cracks between the wooden planks. The way her head is thrown back as she gets his hands on her bare breasts for the first time is what is the deciding factor for his change of plan--he has to do what he just said he wouldn't. She's never once even hinted at wanting to see him, and that makes him even more secure about his last-minute decision. “Can you see me right now?” he asks her as she is shucking his pants down his legs.

"No, it's dark as hell,” she replied, “I can't see my own hand in front of my face."

"I'm going to take this off then,” he says, reaching up toward his face. “I trust you not to try to see me once I do."

"I won't,” she vows seriously, “but are you sure? You don't have to, you know."

"I’ve never been more sure. I trust you."

As soon as the air hits his face, he dips his head to taste her neck and the moan she lets out makes his risky gamble worth it a thousand times over. The salt of her sweat and the taste of her skin is amazing. She rubs her face against his and he melts at the sensation and connection he feels from it. They’re naked except for the panties he’s tugging down her legs at her eager encouraging sounds and gratuitous wiggling to help get them off. He can hear her panting and his mouth seeks out hers in the dark. He half expects her to pull back, but instead she kisses him deeply and the frantic pace slows slightly for several minutes until their kiss turns so messy and desperate he shifts to position himself between her legs and is covered in her abundant wetness as he finally grinds against her. Even her thighs are damp where they hug his hips and he has the most powerful desire to run his teeth across the inside of her thigh where the muscle is pulled tight like this.

Breaking away from her mouth was an almost impossible task, but he kisses his way down her breasts to lick wetly across her nipples until they harden and pebble under his tongue. He was almost blind with lust by the time she reached between them and shifted to get the perfect angle and he sank into her.

Everything else was a blur; her moans mingling with his, the smell of sex floating in the warm night air, and the old bed that did absolutely nothing to mask the tell-tale rhythmic sounds of coming together as two individuals lost themselves in each other. He vaguely remembers the feel of her thigh, slick with sweat, under his palm as he tried to find purchase to lift her up her hips to meet his more firmly. What he does remember is finally, the feel of her shaking and crying out against his neck before she goes tense and shudders through the aftershocks as he brings her to orgasm.

He remembers trying to stave off his release longer than he had ever tried in his life so this wouldn’t be over, but in the end she encouraged him so sweetly he had no chance of holding out even if he wanted to. She moaned and gasped and clenched around him as he got impossibly harder right at the end, begging him “ _don’t stop_ ” and “ _it feels so good_ ” and “ _give it to me_. _I want you_ ”. At the sound of her begging against his mouth and the feel of her body pulling him closer to the edge, he climaxed so hard he thought he might have actually lost his sight and hearing permanently.

It was easily the best sex of his life--it was perfect, just like they fought together: the push and pull; the give and take in perfect balance; the playful jockeying for the best spot and laughing at themselves at every bump in the road. _Why couldn't he have met her before?_

“Okay, maybe _now_ I can sleep,” she said, as they all but collapsed on top of one another, and he could almost hear her smile in the dark when he couldn't see it. 

He’s smiling as well. “Me too.”

“That was amazing,” she said, when her breathing even out and he grinned at the praise. All in all, he didn’t make such a bad show of it, he thought. The fact that he managed to last more than 20 second with a woman who looked like Cara and made him feel like Cara did was a miracle in and of itself.

“What's a word that means better than amazing," he asks. "I don't have any blood in my brain.”

They’re drifting off but the sound of her voice makes him struggle to stay awake. “In case you’re worried,” she says, “let’s agree this won't be awkward tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal,” he agrees and feels some of his worry about tomorrow fade away. “We work well together and fight well together and we’re even good together when the fighting’s done,” he says, in an attempt to express what she means to him. “I can't promise I'll forget tonight, but I won't make it weird.”

“Good,” she says and buries her face in his shoulder to bite at him playfully, “you're already weird enough.” He knew it wasn’t a jab about being a Mandalorian or his way of life. She was just teasing him, and he found it surprising he liked it as much as he did. 

"Me?” he asks incredulously, “I'm not the weird one. Look in a mirror sometime.” It’s too easy and too dangerous to get used to this—joking in the dark while wrapped around each other--but he encloses his arms around her and pulls her close anyway. Danger can fuck right off for the rest of the night.

Their sweat that’s mingled between their chests is cooling and growing sticky but neither one of them notice or care. Tomorrow this wouldn't be a thing, but tonight he would enjoy the feeling of closeness he so rarely experienced. This was more than just battle lust-- _he cared about her._

_Shit. He shouldn't have admitted that even in his mind._

He feels her wrap her arms tighter around him and rubs his hand up and down her spine. He's rewarded with a content hum that’s softer than he thought her capable of before tonight and feels his chest ache as he knows this can't happen again.

_Double shit._

‘ _This wasn’t supposed to happen like this,_ ’ he thinks. How could he find someone he cared about in the middle of this clusterfuck with the kid and the Imperials after him?

He knew it was dangerous feeling something for her but he couldn't help himself--she was like no one he'd ever come across.

It was time for the post-coital philosophical talk he guesses, as she speaks again and her thoughts are almost identical to the ones in his own head. “It's been a long time since I called anyone a friend......but I _like_ you Mando……more than I probably should.”

He understood that all too well. “Me too,” he says, and hopes she can hear the affection he has for her in his voice.

He wished she knew his name. The only thing that could have made this better would have been hearing his name fall from her lips as they came down from the waves they just crashed over together. He just shared the most amazing night of fighting alongside her for something good, followed by the most passionate love making he’d ever experienced (he knew he should call it sex to keep it casual but he couldn’t bring himself to) and she didn't even know his name or his face.

None of that mattered to Cara though, he admitted. She _knew_ him. She _saw_ him, and it made him feel free and ordinary in a way he couldn't quite put into words. At least they had this one night to stop pretending there was nothing more than friendship between them.

“What are you doing,” she asks in confusion, as she feels him kiss the wet skin between her shoulder and clavicle one more time, before feeling around the floor beside the bed for his helmet.

“I have to put it back on,” he explains reluctantly.

“Yeah, but not until sunrise though” she reminds him. “I can’t see you as long as it’s dark. You have my word I won't try to see your face or turn on any lights.”

He knows it's dumb and risky but he allows himself to indulge in this luxury for a while longer. “Before things go back to ‘ _not weird’_ tomorrow can I kiss you again?” he asks.

“We have the whole night,” she says, “plenty of time for round two.” He grinned in the dark next to her at her teasing banter and felt relieved Cara was very much still Cara even after this change in their dynamic. He did take her up on that offer of round two and even round three right before the sun came up and the helmet went back on.

True to her word, things the next day went back to normal and nothing was weird between them, though there was a certain awareness they both felt in the air that confirmed the presence of ‘ _this thing_ ’ between them that had been building like a pressure cooker for weeks. Din felt smug as he realized he had been right. One night had been totally harmless.....

.............................

Standing in front of her on Nevarro barely able to string two words together is not how he anticipated their reunion to be; not to mention the third presence currently resting between them.

"You're pregnant," he observes again, and wants to hit his head against a wall at how utterly stupid the words sounded out loud and how they did nothing to convey how much his world just shifted.

"Yeah,” she confirms, but doesn’t know where to even start after that fact.

She had felt the baby turn over when she saw him and it was a welcome distraction. Usually she pitched and rolled in gentle stretching movements that sent a knee, or elbow, or even her butt out at all angles, and Cara was used to smoothing each of them down with her hand until the little one settled, but this was different.

She was so restless. 

She turned and flipped and the feel of an almost full somersault took Cara’s breath away as a foot lodged under her ribs. If she didn't know better it was like the baby recognized Din--which she knew was impossible. _'I'm turning into a hormonal, sentimental idiot,_ ' she thought. She wanted to place a hand over her belly to reassure her restless daughter but she fought the instinct so as not to draw attention to the obvious bantha in the room. 

There was no point. Even with the helmet obscuring his face, she could feel his eyes glued to the swell in her abdomen which prevented her donning her regular armor. 

Din took his time to observe her. She didn't push him away or lash out at him, but he could see the heaviness behind her expression anticipating the long conversation that was going to happen several months later than it should have.

She’s the one to form full sentences first. “Listen, Din, you want to walk back into town? I could use some water.”

“Water would be good,” he says automatically but he’s too distracted by her body to contribute much else to the conversation.

“Actually,” she says, trying to lighten the mood, “I could use something stronger than that, but you know....” she gestures to her round stomach, but can’t fight the instinct any longer and she smooths her hand around the bottom of her distended belly and feels an answering flutter in response. Not only does it soothe her restless tenant, but it calms Cara as well. Din can't take his eyes off the movement—the practiced ease of the loving maternal gesture. He wanted to touch her, but he has no right to assume he can reach out unless she tells him so. _He's been gone so long. How much did he miss?_

She's less than steady on her feet, but he stays just close enough she could reach out to steady herself if need be, but not so close she felt like he was coddling her as they walked toward town. 

She's throwing him an olive branch to talk indoors and he'll take it gladly. She'd be well within her rights to refuse to talk to him ever again after he left her; though he didn't know he'd left her like _this_ or he's not sure he could have forced himself to leave. Only his foundling's life at risk could have dragged him away if he'd known what he was leaving behind. 

_‘How?’_ he questioned for the twentieth time in his head since he first saw her round belly.

He only has the one question, but it could be interpreted in so many ways and he couldn't seem to articulate any of them.

_How_ _did she not know?_ They had fought hard on Nevarro side-by-side, and she must have been pregnant then too. Did she not discover it until later?

_ How _ _did she not track him down at all costs to tell him? Did she try and fail?_

_ How _ _had she done all this by herself, still spending the day in the desert working to earn a living though obviously uncomfortable and off her stride?_

_How_ _could he ever make it up to her_ _after the time he'd lost?_

_How_ _could he be there for her_ now _and would she even want him around?_

_ How _ _was she? How was the baby? Was everything all right?_

He had so many questions but all he managed to articulate was a highly eloquent, "Cara, _how_ ….?"

He heard her chuckle from where she walked beside him, and it was the first time the corners of her lips had curled up in mirth since he laid eyes on her. After the third time she watches his fingers twitch toward her without follow through, she takes pity on him and reaches out for his hand. Without speaking, she tugs at the fingers of his gloves, slowly enough that he had plenty of chance to protest if he wanted to, but he didn't. She was looking at _him_ , but he was looking at her _stomach_ as she placed his bare hand against it and pressed down firmly enough to feel the spongy softness where only hard muscle had been found before. As if on cue, the baby stretched out an appendage, pushing hard against his hand, and the surprised and joyful sound of awe he made was something she'd never forget.

“It's so strong,” he states, and he’s not sure if it’s pride or amazement coloring his words more. 

“She is,” Cara agrees, proudly.

It took him a minute to catch up with the information she just casually dropped. His hand didn't move, but he finally looked up at her face. "She?" he asked curiously.

"Midwife says it's a girl,” she tells him plainly. “I hope you're not disappointed." He couldn't tell if she was kidding or not, but it didn't matter, his answer was the same.

Never 

_A little girl......_

He was blown away. In his wildest dreams he couldn’t have imagined the day turning out like this. They shared a little girl……

He had known about her existence for mere minutes, but his heart was already filled with pride at this child that hadn't even taken its first breath yet. 

She eased her hand off the back of his in an invitation for him to take over his study in topography on his own. He traced his palm over the top of her belly, entranced by the shifting evidence of life underneath reacting to his touch, but it was when he caressed the heavy curve of her stomach under her belly button, the baby protested and pushed back against the perceived intrusion in her space. He felt a hard thump and what had to be a foot (a heel specifically) slid across the length of his palm in annoyance. ‘ _This was Cara's daughter all right_ ,’ he thinks fondly, ‘ _grumpy about anyone invading her space unless they were expressly invited to do so_.’ 

It was his daughter too though, _amazingly enough_ , and he once again was humbled that he managed to create something so perfect and so strong with this woman without even knowing it. Even with the evidence dancing under his hand, he simply couldn’t believe it was real. He knew it was impossible for the baby to recognize his touch, but he hoped she learned to recognize it as distinctly his in the days to come. He traced his fingers over the appendage he could actually see protruding with his own eyes and watched as the gentle touch seemed to appease her and she settled down.

Cara laughed as he chased the sensation across the swell of her abdomen, as it shifted under the surface in a game of cat and mouse. "She does this all the time?" he asks in wonder. He knew a baby moved while in the womb, but he had no idea it was like this. 

"Yeah." she answers truthfully. It was true she slept at times too, but it seemed like she was always on the move while Cara was awake.

"How do you sleep?" he asks, slightly joking, but also serious. _How could anyone sleep with that constant movement?_ It feels incredible to him--the strength behind her movements even from the outside--and he thinks it must be even more awe-inspiring for her. 

"That's easy to answer," she says, "I don't."

He seems to be catching up with the developments since he left but one question still lingers. "How though?” he asks, so sincerely confused that it brings a smile to her face. “How did we--?"

"I think you know _how_ ," she says, and the grin she flashes him is the one he sees in his dreams--so familiar, that he feels confident everything will work out just from that. "I think the question you want to ask is ' _what's happened since you left_?'"

"Tell me everything. I want to hear all of it,” he implores her. _No detail could be too boring or trivial._

"You staying for a while this time?" she asks nonchalantly, though she could feel the anxiety as she awaited his answer.

"As long as you'll have me," he assures her. "I'm not leaving this planet again unless you're with me." Leaving her behind on Nevarro had been the hardest thing he'd ever done and he wouldn't make that mistake again. _What was between them had been worth fighting for, even back then. He'd known it when he sought her out on his second visit to sorgan and felt like he was coming home when he saw her face in the outpost again. It was worth fighting for even more now......_

He'd promised her he'd try to forget about that night of desire passed off as weakness, but he couldn't manage to forget the way he felt about her. All these months, his thoughts returned to her again and again.

"Then we've got time,” she assures him in return. “Lets get some water first though. I'm parched."

"And we'll find a place you can sit down that isn't a rock in the middle of a desert,” he suggests.

She scoffs. "Don't you start coddling me like Greef does. I swear, that man....."

"I make no promises, but I'll give it my best shot," he says, and accepts her elbow playfully in his ribs in censure. He was such a liar and he knew it. He had months and months to make up for and he would start now. 

...............................

This amazing image inspired this work. Check out [Mandalorianess](https://mandalorianess.tumblr.com/) and her amazing art for Caradin.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading.  
> I'd love to hear from you if you enjoyed this labor of love. Work is crazy but I will catch up with everyon who is nice enough to comment soon.  
> thank you all for continuing to read my ramblings :)


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